ON board most ships there is a pet animal of some kind. Ours was a parrot, which was Jack Larmour’s aversion, from the exactness with which the bird had learned to imitate the calls of the boatswain’s whistle. Sometimes the parrot would pipe an order so correctly as to throw the ship into momentary confusion, and the first lieutenant into a volley of imprecations, consigning Poll to a warmer latitude than his native tropical forests.

One day a party of ladies paid us a visit aboard, and several had been hoisted on deck by the usual means of a ‘whip’ on the mainyard.* The chair had descended for another ‘whip,’ but scarcely had its fair freight been lifted out of the boat alongside, than the unlucky parrot piped ‘Let go!’* The order being instantly obeyed, the unfortunate lady, instead of being comfortably seated on deck, was soused overhead in the sea!* Luckily for Poll, Jack Larmour was on shore at the time, or this unseasonable assumption of the boatswain’s functions might have ended tragically.